Not Ever
by ScatteringAshes
Summary: Ten years later, Alfred F. Jones has only one thing to ask of his personal secretary. Not an AmericaxOC fic.


**Ugh, I am not happy with this at all... I wanted to write something for 9/11, and I've been creating a series of new characters to suit my headcannon (which states the nations have personal secretaries who also function as "undercover" bodyguards). Still, I consider this sort of well-written enough to post. I'll probably go through it later and pick it apart and feel terrible for cursing the literary world with this. (Though, after 'Twilight', I don't think much worse can be inflicted.) **

**Sorry for the fail, which should serve to prove that I am not win enough to have made Hetalia. (Sneaky disclaimer alert, you lawyer-vultures.)**

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><p>8:46 am.<p>

Ten years ago, that was the time Hell came to America. Catherine Vetra couldn't remember another time in her life more terrifying than that day. She had been a new hire then, arriving on recommendations from her father, several politicians, and her C.O. The only thought in her head had been of utilizing her military training to serve her new employer to the absolute best of her abilities.

At 8:46 am on September 11, 2001, Catherine learned that there were some things a secretary/bodyguard couldn't guard against.

It had been a normal enough day: Alfred had been as energetic and happy as normal, greeting her with a brilliant smile and a cheerful "Good morning, Cathy!" She had made him a cup of coffee and started going over his schedule for the day, complete with his complaining about it. Then, everything happened so fast. He had cried out in pain, causing the new secretary to turn sharply and gap for a moment as he gripped his shoulder and grimaced in pain.

Having been made privy to his true identity, Catherine immediately turned on the news and rushed over to his side. Immediately her first aid training kicked in and she carefully coaxed him out of his beloved bomber jacket and pulled away his suit and shirt. The cut itself didn't seem very big, but it was bleeding profusely, as though it had hit a major artery. Catherine couldn't for the life of her recall a massive artery in that spot. She was just putting away the first aid kit when Alfred cried out again, and blood quickly soaked the bandage.

Catherine had managed not to panic (though she was rather freaked out at the massive amounts of blood) and immediately returned to his side to fight the freely flowing blood. At that moment, the door slammed open and some of the other office workers poured in. They all knew the truth about her boss (not that anyone had told them…computer geeks were pretty perceptive). Immediately Catherine began barking orders, telling one to explain what exactly was going on, instructing another to get the spare first aid kit, and ordering another to get her a warm washcloth.

She likes to say the rest of the day from that point on was a blur stained in Alfred's blood. Sadly, it wasn't. She remembered every single moment her heart skipped a beat, every single drop of blood that trailed down her nation's back, every single moment he nearly passed out. The one part of it all that was the clearest was her inner voice chanting _don'tdiedon'tdie__**iwon'tletyoudie**_until she was near insane with worry.

Now, however, it was ten years later. Ten years full of war, economic rollarcoasters, and her boss forcing himself to smile through it all. Really, the only good thing that had happened was that Osama bin Laden was finally dead…

"Alfred? Here's your coffee," Catherine said softly as she set the steaming cup down.

Alfred was staring out the window at the flag flying at half-mast. Catherine had had a difficult time driving in that morning, silent under the massive amounts of flags and the somber reminders of the half-mast position. All she could think about was her lively aunt, trapped under the burning rubble of the World Trade Center. It didn't seem right that so many had to die for some religious zealot's twisted ideas. 3,000 people died that day in some of the worst ways imaginable, and Alfred felt everything, heard every scream.

"It's been ten years, Cathy. Ten years and it still hurts like it was yesterday."

Catherine straightened her posture and readjusted the well-organized-yet-overstuffed clipboard in her arms.

"Is there anything I can do, Alfred?"

For a moment, he was silent. And then…

"Just stay with me, Cathy. Don't ever leave."

Catherine nodded and moved to his side. At first she didn't say a word, as she didn't believe in promises she couldn't keep—but they both knew the truth in her actions. So long as Catherine lived, she would make sure Alfred was never alone. Though, for once, Catherine decided to make a promise, one she was determined to keep until old age stole her away.

"I won't."

Not ever.

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><p><strong>Go ahead. Rip me apart. Chances are I probably deserve it for the failworthy content of this drabblefic/thing. And for those waiting for an update on 'Brothers', I apologize for the wait. I'm a college freshman now with a full class schedule because I am an idiot. I sincerely hope to have the next chapter up within the next few weeks. **

**Again, destroy me for this. I'm still trying to flesh Catherine out, so tell me what you think. (To be honest, I think I'm going to have her secretly idolizing Riza Hawkeye from Fullmetal Alchemist. Their personalities turned out so similar without me even trying. |D) **

**Reviews are the next best thing to hugs. And we all like hugs. ...Right?  
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